Three and a half years ago I started unraveling the knots I was born into forty years ago, woven by five thousand year old rope. And it took three slips and twelve steps to get one shot at this moment, where I finally have what I need to heal an eight year old wound.
It's not one thing. It's never one thing. Or it's all just one thing, like a stone thrown into the deep end, sending ripples out. The concentric rings never held me; I'm always watching for where the ripples bump into walls and railings, where overlapping interference happens. That's where I've been living. In the interference.
But it's been years since I threw any stones. So many placid days in a row that I had to zoom way out to see the edges. Without the familiar chaos, an image started to appear. The whole thing is a reflection. This whole thing is one huge, gorgeous, sparkling, cosmic reflection.
An eight year old wound. The time when I chose surface mirth over overlapping. Or an eight year old wound. The time when I packed a Radio Flyer with sandwiches and a teddy bear but got no further than the stop sign at the end of the block. It's both. Reflecting back and forth into each other, signals flashing between hemispheres so fast that no one was conscious of it happening. Except, now I am.
Three slips. Twelve steps. Forty knots. Three musketeers two times over in separate dimensions and two one-eyed Jacks facing the other direction. And all of it adds up to letting go.
Sarah Elovich is a writer and performer based in Oakland, CA.